Mikael was sitting on a chair, across the table was Gwynne facing him, who had been squinting her eyes at him since he arrived.

Archpriest Nuv-al sat between them, calmly sipping his tea.

"So, what prompted this?" He said, placing his teacup on its saucer.

Before Mikael could reply, Gwynne beat him to it.

"Before we fought the Lesser Apostle, he was relatively normal until he started twitching like he was possessed." She started to ramble.

"His eye was shifting around like crazy, he was spouting some weird language, and his voice was getting unnaturally loud and echoey, then all of a sudden his aura changed, his stance changed, the way he fuckin' looked at me changed. I thought he got possessed by a demon or something, and if not for the fact that us Seraphims couldn't get corrupted, I would have frozen him into fragments!"

The Archpriest nodded, gesturing for her to continue.

"Then when I confronted him about it, he was refusing to answer them, and just said that you would be able to help."

Nuv-al looked at Mikael, who silently begged him to do something about it.

Mikael saw the glint in the Archpriest's eyes, and dreaded what was to come.

"The solution is simple." He smiled as Gwynne raised her eyebrow.

"Just show her what you showed to me, Mikael."

Mikael covered his face with his hands, leaning back as he looked up to the roof.

Unseen to the other two, his eye ferociously shifted around.

As the shifting stopped, he sighed and faced the Archpriest

"Okay, okay, I'll show her." He solemnly nodded, facing towards Gwynne as he held his hand out, "Give me your hand."

She scoffed, but said nothing otherwise as she placed her palm on top of Mikael's, reaching his other hand out towards Nuv-al, already expecting the Archpriest to ask.

The old man merely huffed a laugh, as he did the same as Gwynne.

In a single blink, they went from the warm and comfortable meeting room, to a field littered with corpses.

Mikael's corpses.

Gwynne froze and covered her nose as the Archpriest remained undeterred.

"̸S̷h̷e̵ ̸s̸h̸o̷u̸l̷d̵ ̴n̶o̵t̴ ̴b̴e̸ ̸h̸e̵r̸e̶!̸"̴ A wheezing, gravelly voice growled behind them.

It was Mikael, well, a Mikael.

This one was brutalized, the top of his head was missing, his left arm was hanging on by mere strings of flesh, and his armor was tattered with arrows, swords, and spears sticking out of his torso in odd angles.

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She could see maggots coming out of the head wound, spilling out as he limped his way towards the group.

They looked down at the wounded leg, only to see a mangled mass of flesh. Bones sticking out in random areas, the flesh pulled, twisted, and shredded apart into an amalgamation that resembled nothing like a limb.

Yet, this Mikael merely walked, well, limped, towards them as if it were just a broken leg.

She heard a sigh come from the Mikael she came in with, "1455, you need to sit down, please. If her knowing this puts her at ease, then so shall it be."

1455th's mouth turned into a snarl, but before he could spit venom in response, another voice spoke up.

"He inevitably has to show us to people he trusts, most especially the Seraphims, should he decide if so." This time, the voice was... flat. It was the only word Gwynne could think of.

No tone, no emotion, nothing. Almost like a mindless drone reading off of a script.

"̵̴̴Q̶̵̶u̵̷̸i̴̵̴e̴̶̵t̴̵̸,̸̴̷ ̸̴̷1̶̴̷5̸̴̶4̴̵̸2̷̶̶!̴̵̸ ̶̴̶Y̷̵̵o̵̶̶u̴̸̶ ̸̵̷h̸̴̵a̸̷̴v̸̶̶e̸̵̸ ̶̴̷n̵̸̶o̶̸̴ ̸̴̴s̵̶̸a̷̶̷y̵̶̶ ̶̵̸i̴̴̶n̷̵̸ ̶̷̵t̵̴̷h̸̸̵i̴̸̴s̸̷̵ ̴̵̶w̷̶̴h̷̷̵e̸̷̶n̷̸̶ ̴̶̷y̴̵̷o̶̵̶u̶̴̴ ̶̵̵d̶̵̶a̷̷̶b̵̴̵b̸̷̷l̴̴̵e̶̷̵d̵̷̵ ̵̷̴w̶̷̸i̶̵̴t̴̶̸h̶̴̴ ̶̸̴t̸̸̸h̴̴̸e̶̴̶ ̷̴̶f̴̵̸u̶̴̵c̵̸̸k̶̵̸i̸̴̸n̸̵̷g̵̴̶ ̸̸̷t̴̷̶a̶̵̷i̸̶̴n̵̷̴t̵̴̸!̸̷̷"̵̷̸ 1455th screeched as he swiveled half his head to the right, where a relatively normal Mikael sat cross-legged.

He would be indistinguishable from the Mikael she knew if not for the dark, tentacle-like veins coursing through his armor, and most likely his skin.

She would also notice the large gaping wound that was in the place where Mikael's heart would be, but instead of there being a heart, there was nothing.

Even the area inside the wound was pitch black.

The semi-normal Mikael raised his hands in surrender, ceding his point.

Archpriest Nuv-al stepped towards the Mikael who was raising his hands, and sat down next to him.

Gwynne followed their Mikael as he walked towards a particular corpse.

She noted that this one had a beautiful claymore lodged into where his mouth would be, the blade coming out through his nape, pinning the body.

Their Mikael would grab the sword's hilt and pulled, letting the pinned body fall to the floor as the claymore slid out.

Seconds later, the body started to twitch, bones popping as a gurgling noise came out.

"1871," Mikael started, "Could you wake the ones who can be afforded to do so, please?"

The once pitch black hood the body had, now had Mikael's weird eye, but it was missing his normal blue one.

1871 flickered and appeared again, now standing up as he stretched his body, loud cracks emitting from his body after every stretch.

"Reason?" 1871 spoke, but instead of the usual unusual voice that Mikael had, this one had, for the lack of better words, an artificial one.

"Gwynne wants to know." Mikael replied.

"Reason Accepted. Initiating Routine."

Gwynne and Mikael watched as 1871 seemed to pick and choose which bodies to wake up, either by pulling the weapons that impaled them, or kicking them awake.

"Mikael," she whispered to the man beside him, "What the fuck is all this?"

"They'll explain it far better than I will be able to, this is why I was uncertain about telling you. I couldn't do it without the Archpriest's permission." He replied, still following 1871 with his eyes.

"They? Do you mean more versions of you? What the hell are the numbers about anyway?"

"They represent lives."

Gwynne blinked twice.

"Wait what?"

"You heard what I said, 1871 is the 1871st life. 1542, the one the Archpriest sat next to, was also another life, and so was 1455th."

"So you're... essentially immortal?"

"I... admittedly don't understand either."

"What do you mean? They're... you, right?"

"Yes, but no. Each and every number means a fresh life, so the experiences and personalities are different."

Mikael could feel the next question, but he decided to not lie.

"So what... number are you?"

Gwynne gasped as she heard his answer.

"The 1999th."

Before she could ask more questions, 1871 came back to them, with more Mikaels following shortly after.

"They're ready to talk to her." 1871 spoke as him, and the rest of the awoken Mikaels stared at her.

She saw the MIkael she was just talking to nod towards her, and she breathed in deep.

"So, to begin-"